


Lachesism

by sharmanat0r



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Angst, Fighting, M/M, eruri - Freeform, fight club inspired, some JeanMarco and BertReiner, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharmanat0r/pseuds/sharmanat0r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi has a disgustingly average life. An average job. An average apartment. He takes up fighting to combat the monotony. His life definitely takes an unexpected turn when he gets caught up in an ex-fighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lachesism

**Author's Note:**

> I know I probably shouldn't be starting new chaptered fics and stuff, but I had to start this idea. It's too long to be one chapter, so why not?  
> I made everyone around the same age because I can wooooo  
> Also this is obviously inspired by Fight Club, BUT also by this gr8 fic you should all read---> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1003984/chapters/1989102

 

>  
> 
>   
> _n._  the desire to be struck by disaster—to survive a plane crash, to lose everything in a fire, to plunge over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other.
> 
> -The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
> 
> ******************************************************************

They say you can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick.

Levi wasn't sure who "they" were, but he wondered if they had ever tested that theory. The first fight he was ever in was certainly not his own choice. Walking home after work in the shady part of the city wasn't his brightest idea.

But something about that first fight ignited his insides with a desire he hadn't known was there before. His whole life had been planned out for him. Everything he did had a meaning or purpose. Every motion added to the monotony he couldn't escape. But this was much different.

Every blow was, in its own way, unexpected. Each uppercut landed differently. Not every right hook felt the same. The pain varied in ways his life never had. 

The adrenaline that coursed through him was addictive. 

Within the confines of his cubicle, he was just Levi. He copied documents and made phone calls. But none of that ever mattered. It was just a way to pay the bills. The only reason he didn't give it up was because it was a deviation from the plan. If it wasn't laid out in front of him with clear instructions from point A to B, he didn't want anything to do with it.

At least, that's how he once felt.

Feeling knuckles make contact with his bones, he completely forgot this policy.

"Come on, man. Let's get out of here."

He never started a fight. That was his only rule. 

"Not until I beat this shithead to a bloody pulp."

The corners of Levi's mouth jerked upward in a bloody smirk. He wiped his mouth on his shirt. Just another stain to get rid of. He lifted his hands and motioned towards himself in a "come and get it" gesture. This was more than enough to provoke the man opposite him once again.

He dodged his second blow and landed his own in the center of his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. The man grabbed him, slamming him to the ground and putting his foot to his chest, stepping down just enough to make it hard to breathe.

"You came to the wrong neighborhood, motherfucker."

Levi laughed bitterly, feeling short of breath. Why did he do this to himself? It only took a second for the man to let up his guard, giving Levi the chance to roll out from under him, kicking him in the back of the legs. He grabbed his hair, slamming his head into the pavement once. The sound of impact was sickeningly satisfying. His friend wasn't much help, watching in disbelief as the five foot three assailant beat the holy hell out of somebody twice his size.

This was simply routine. 

Leave work. Walk home. Insult somebody. Reap the benefits. Go home. Get a shower. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

"H-hey, just let him go! You're gonna kill him!"

Levi shook his head. He'd never kill anyone. After all, he still did have a conscience.

He let go and stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. His knuckles were already starting to bruise. His lip was busted and his mouth tasted like metal. And yet he didn't mind. The old Levi would have been disgusted by the blood. He would worried about getting the stains out of his clothing. His mind would have reeled with deadlines he had not met that week. 

This Levi only cared about the current moment.

"Maybe that'll teach you not to judge a book by its cover, asshole." 

The man groaned in response. Levi looked at his comrade calmly. It elicited the same response as if he had personally challenged him. 

"See you around, boys," Levi said, picking up his brief case as if he hadn't just beaten a man into the next dimension.

"Who the hell  _is_  that guy?"

 

******************************************************************

 

"Hey, Levi."

The voice was so low he almost missed it. He looked around, seeing one of his co-workers motioning for him to come over. 

"What is it, Reiner?" Levi asked, his joints aching as he made his way over.

"I hear tales of a dashing vigilante of your stature fighting crime in the night," Reiner whispered, not making eye contact with Levi. It was like they were having a secret conversation and Reiner didn't want to be associated with anything being said. Levi narrowed his eyes.

"You heard wrong," he said. Reiner looked at him quickly, nearly dropping the stack of copied papers in his hands.

"But-"

"I'm not fighting crime, dipshit." Reiner waved a hand at Levi. 

"Whatever. Regardless, there were melees and you participated in them. I think I may know of a place that caters to your new, er, hobby." Levi was listening now. Reiner looked surprised that he hadn't walked away yet. He hadn't planned that far ahead. "I, well, it's kind of a secret, you know?" he said, looking around warily.

"Do I have to beat it out of you?" Levi asked, shifting towards him quickly. Reiner jumped back just as quickly. 

"Eh, well, you know... It's in the basement of that bar on Thames Street. I hear their selection on tap is legendary," Reiner said cryptically.

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Let's just say ol' Bert and I have been there a time or two," Reiner said.

"Are you trying to get me to go to a gay bar?" Levi asked. Reiner's face turned a glorious shade of crimson.

"No! People go there to, like, take their frustrations out on each other," Reiner said, his face feeling less hot.

"So... a gay bar."

"Levi! You're not getting the point," Reiner said, laying his head on the printer. Levi smirked. 

"I get it. You want me to go to  _Fight Club,_ " he said dryly. The idea was tempting, he had to admit. But it also seemed to make things too structured. And that was what he was trying to get away from. "Wait, you and  _Bertholdt_  have gone?" Reiner rubbed the back of his neck.

"Bert's the only one who's gotten involved. It was really kind of an accident," he said, smiling like a proud parent. Bertholdt was a gentle giant in the most literal definition. Levi tried in vain to imagine him bashing somebody's head off the ground. The image was comical to say the least.

"Speak of the devil!" Reiner said when Bertholdt came to retrieve his things from the printer. So Reiner wasn't lying. One eye was swollen and purple and he had Hello Kitty band-aids all over.

"They were the only ones I had," Bertholdt sighed. Even with this confirmation, the idea of Bertholdt fighting was becoming more and more blurry.

"But really, Levi... you could probably beat everyone's ass," Reiner said, now distracted by Bertholdt. 

"Reiner, your coffee!"

"Fuck!"

Levi stepped away from the now destroyed printer and wondered if Reiner might have had a point.

 

******************************************************************

In the end, curiosity got the best of him.

From the outside, the bar was the definition of a greasy spoon. And the inside was even worse. The paint looked like curdled milk. The smoke was almost to the point of impairing his vision. Every step stuck to the ground. He silently hoped old Levi wouldn't pay a sudden visit; he wouldn't be able to physically or mentally tolerate the disgusting conditions.

"You lost?" 

He almost hadn't seen the man, the smoke was so thick. It took him a moment to find the voice's owner.

His eyes settled on a tall, blonde man with eyes that bored right through him. Levi genuinely couldn't decide if he should be wary or intrigued. 

"Far from it," he retorted, looking at the man with equal intensity. He looked Levi up and down, his emotions impossible to read. 

"You just don't seem like the type to be hanging out with these low lifes," he said, putting a hand next to Levi's head and leaning towards him. Levi's skin should have crawled at the advances, but he didn't feel threatened. He was sure he could lay out the bastard if he tried anything. 

"You say it like you're excluding yourself," Levi said, narrowing his eyes.

Levi pushed his hand away and continued to search for stairs. If Reiner had been lying, he was going to use him as a punching bag. 

"Are you looking for the basement?" That silky voice irked him, but it was impossible not to listen when he talked. Levi said nothing, but the man motioned to a heavy green door with a sign that read "Employees Only."

"If you try anything, I won't hesitate to rip your dick off," Levi warned. The man held up his hands in a gesture of "I wouldn't dream of testing you." They entered, a set of stairs leading down into a dingy basement. As they descended, the sounds of skin colliding with skin began to fill the room. The occasional "god damn" and "oooh" punctuated this.

Levi was surprised the man wasn't breathing down his neck. Maybe he'd misinterpreted his motives. 

The space wasn't that large and twenty sweaty men packed into it wasn't the most ideal situation. Levi felt claustrophobic as he attempted to find a suitable spot. It was times like these he really hated being short.

The blonde stranger was silent and parted the crowd effortlessly. Levi didn't thank him.

The fight was clearly over. The two men currently sparring were fairly equal in size, but only one could prevail. In victory, he pumped his fist and stood. The most peculiar part, however, was when he offered a hand to the man still on the ground. He clutched his stomach, but smiled through the pain. The victor held his hand and raised it into the air. Cheers erupted from the surrounding men. Levi hadn't been expecting it. 

Now it was a little easier to picture Bertholdt in this place. 

"Ah, always a crowd favorite." 

Levi glanced back, the blonde man's eyes trained on the two competitors helping each other walk.

"There's no way! I don't even want to be here!"

Beside Levi were two men a bit younger than he. The taller one looked terrified, shaking his head furiously. 

"Marco, really, it's not all that bad."

"The first time you did it, you couldn't remember your name for a week."

"I was just messing with you," he said sheepishly.

"Jean. No."

Levi turned to them, trying to figure out their motives. Marco was clearly the lamb and Jean the lion. Or at least he liked to think so.

"What are you looking at, half pint?" 

Levi almost revoked his only rule in order to clobber him.

"Jean!" Marco's eyes widened in terror. "You're so rude!" Levi's expression must have thrown Jean off because his own expression changed to match Marco's.

"I-I didn't mean that! Uh, it's the... atmosphere... really gets to you," he said quickly. Marco elbowed him in the side.

"He's a newbie. You're lucky he's not a psychopath. Then again, he might just be waiting until you're vulnerable," the man behind Levi said, shrugging. He was kind of growing on Levi. "But if you come, you gotta fight," he added. Marco looked like he was about to bolt or pass out. "It's just a joke."

"Oh..."

"Marco, are you okay?"

"I think I need some air."

Levi turned to the man, wondering what his purpose was here. He looked completely free of cuts or bruises. His skin was smooth and unscathed. The only thing that could have suggested he anything to do with this scene was his clearly exceptional physique.

"Who are you anyway?" Levi asked, the next pair of competitors stepping up to the plate. 

"Erwin," he said simply, as if that explained everything. Levi turned back to the brawl. It was clear that one of them had the advantage of size. Then again, that never stopped Levi. 

They both had excellent form. And Levi didn't even know much about form. He usually just went for it.

The taller man initiated the fight, jabbing his opponent in the ribs. The other's defensive strategy faltered. He grabbed his already bruising ribs and was greeted with a second blow to the face. He fell to the ground. 

"Appearances are not everything," Levi muttered. Watching this fighting was getting to him. His atoms hummed with energy trying to escape. He crossed his arms, trying to hold himself together. 

"I'd like to see your form," Erwin said in a low voice. Levi squeezed himself harder. "Really, what do you say?" Levi turned to him, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Levi had never had an audience. He was used to having one or two people trying to gang up on him in the middle of a fight, but this was a whole different game. Nobody would interfere. His shoulders relaxed.

Erwin unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to Jean. He caught it, cheeks burning. Levi had been wrong in assuming Erwin's skin was completely unharmed. Starting just above his navel and running along to the side of his ribs was a scar. His mind raced with possibilities, but he shook them away. He wanted to view this fight objectively. 

Erwin raised his fists, one out further than the other. He nodded.

Levi removed his own shirt, muscles tensing. He mimicked Erwin's stance, feeling all eyes on him. He knew what they were thinking. Erwin had at least a foot on him.

If only they knew.

Erwin seemed just as reluctant to strike first as Levi. He supposed he could break his own rules at least once. His muscles itched to be used.

His first target was Erwin's ribcage. But he deflected him with ease. His expression never changed.

_So you like to play defense, huh?_

Levi swung hard at Erwin's head, but he always seemed to be just out of reach. Levi wasn't used to opponents who actually thought about what they were doing. This only motivated him.

Erwin graduated to offensive techniques. His fist connected with Levi's ribs. Levi inhaled sharply, but recovered quickly. His muscles strained, trying to land just one blow. His fingers ached with the need. But Erwin was always two steps ahead. Levi could feel his adrenaline running low. 

One upper cut. It was hard enough to taste blood. 

Erwin spat on the ground. Levi was caught off guard by his grin. His eyes seemed to change as well. He looked like he'd discovered the eighth wonder of the world.

Levi used this to his advantage. He kicked Erwin's feet out from under him, landing on him hard. His breathing was shallow and weak. He'd never had to try so hard.

On a normal day, he would have landed a punch or two more to insure absolute defeat, but the atmosphere here was different. He began pushing himself off of Erwin, his fingers accidentally tracing over the rigid scar. He felt a pang and squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell was wrong with him today?

Erwin sat up on his elbows, seeming to forget they were surrounded by at least twenty men and that Levi was in fact straddling him still. Levi couldn't seem to look away from him.

"You know, if you really wanted to get good at this, I could help," he said, sitting up until his hands were on the ground. His face was close to Levi's and it was only then Levi decided he should get up. He stood up. He extended a hand, figuring he should try to abide by the norms exhibited in earlier fights.

He hadn't noticed the room was silent.

"He beat Erwin..." somebody whispered. So Erwin really was somebody.

"Seems like I don't need your help," Levi said. 

"Don't get cocky on me," Erwin said, taking his shirt back from a slack-jawed Jean. 

"Your face is going to stay that way."

"Marco, can you fucking blame me?"

Erwin turned back to Levi, pulling a card from his pocket.  _Smith's Gym._

"How original," Levi mumbled. 

"Just in case you change your mind."

 

 


End file.
